Page 13 of Abdominal Snowman

The metallic slam of a dryer door echoed up to her, and she jumped. Maybe she wasn’t as calm as she thought she was.

His footsteps rattled through the cabin as he made his way back toward her.

They stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to crowd you. Here.”

A woosh sounded, and a pile of clothes flew through the air to smack against the bedroom wall.

“We can talk later,” he called to her.

Then his footsteps sounded again, but in the opposite direction. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she froze. The door slammed, and she glanced to the window again, watching as he made his way to the garage next to the house, disappearing inside. Her stomach turned in knots.

Sliding from the bed and dragging the blanket with her, Sage made her way to her pile of clothes. They were still warm, and she pulled the pile close. She slipped into the comforting fabric, relishing the heat that still couldn’t match Soren’s.

Am I crazy?

Sage walked nervously across the wooden floor, wrestling with herself. Part of her said to leave. Now. Run and don’t look back.

But the other part of her, the part that made her defy her boss at every turn for real stories, argued to stay. Not only because she had no way to get back to town. But also because…

She wanted answers.

Sage restarted her pacing track and paused. She faced the entirety of the upper floor. A loft bedroom. The dresser, an attached bathroom. A closed door that was probably a closet.

She turned back to the window, walking closer and peering through the cold glass to the garage below. It was still shut tight, and the light was on inside.

“I’d hear him coming,” she reasoned with herself.

And it wasn’t like she was going to pull his closet apart. She just wanted to know a little more about him. Surely he couldn’t get mad at that.

Was it bravery or stupidity that made her stay?

Sage crossed the room to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. She stared down at the neatly folded tees and long-sleeved shirts stacked in tidy piles.

How dare a monster have better laundry habits than her?

Careful not to disturb the order, she lifted each pile and checked underneath for anything. Photos, keys, locks of hair from previous victims…

The next drawer was filled with jeans and pants. The third with boxers and socks—that were matched, might she add—and her hope was dwindling. Kneeling down, Sage pulled the last drawer open, and found… something.

At first, it seemed like discarded picture frames, but as she slowly flipped the top one over, she gasped. It was a family of humans. Two men and a woman stood in the snow, smiling at the camera. Clearly related, they all had the same eyes. The same white hair adorned all their heads too.

But two of them seemed older, probably the parents of the young man next to them. The young man was tall and broad, someone who looked like they belonged in the mountains chopping wood for the winter. Those eyes… the shape of his face. What if this was Soren? Why else would he have these photos? Were these his parents? And where were they now? Was it just him?

Sage had so many questions she didn’t know where to start. Her mind was racing with possible scenarios. Had they been attacked and murdered, Soren left as the only survivor? And now he had to live his life as the same beast who’d killed his family?

Dramatic much?

Shaking her head, Sage lowered the photo back down—they were hidden for a reason and there was no sense in being cruel—and stood.

There was still no sign of Soren, and she peered back out the window. The garage still showed no signs of disturbance.

Making up her mind, letting her curiosity possibly get her in trouble once again, Sage turned and padded in socked feet back across the room. She paused at the head of the stairs and took in the cabin.

The fireplace was the center of the entire home, the kitchen and dining room behind it, and the couch and television centered in front of it. To the left of the stairs was a clean, empty bar, and next to that, two more doors. Everything was decorated with warm, cozy tones, and the fire crackled in the background. It was picture perfect.

Picture.

Sage gasped and ran back to the bed, feeling around beneath the covers for her phone. She hadn’t even thought of her car. Of her bags. Of the footprint she’d taken a photo of for evidence before the snow had hidden it. That could confirm that she wasn’t crazy. That she wasn’t imagining this whole thing.